What You Did
by JailQueen
Summary: A horrible series of murders starts cropping up by the side of the road for the cops to find. All young teenage boys, tortured, abused and startingly familiar for Magnus. Why couldn't the past just stay a memory? Why did it have to come back and threaten to destroy... everything. Why did he have to come back?
1. Chapter 1

**What You Did**

By JailQueen

**A/N: My first Wallander fic! No idea what I'm doing or really what's going to happen. Something bad and tragic and poor Magnus is going to be in the centre of it. There are too few Magnus/Kurt stories out there so I thought I'd do my part. **

**Warnings: There will be blood, torture, (possible) rape, mentions of child abuse and I never let anything end too sadly if I ever get around to ending it. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own Wallander. **

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"Godammit Kurt!" Magnus sighed the moment he entered the room. Kurt glanced up from his mountain of paperwork and saw the young man rubbing his hand exasperatedly over his face.

"What?" Kurt asked with a hint of annoyance and Magnus lowered his hand and scowled. "How long did I spend getting your computer in order?"

"A while by the sound of it." Kurt ducked his head to hide the smirk creeping across his lips. He looked up when he felt Magnus' eyes basically boring holes into his exposed neck but instead of setting off on a flaming rant Magnus merely sighed again, raising his hands in capitulation and turned to leave.

"Magnus," Kurt called and rose from behind his desk, sending a few case notes and half a bagel to the floor. "Are you alright? You've been acting weird ever since we took this case." _Not that I blame you_, Kurt thought as the crime scene pictures surfaced in his mind.

Magnus' frowned with a confused expression donning his brow but soon the look vanished and was replaced by a scowl and his eyes turned cold, then strangely vulnerable. He looked for a moment like he was about to either start yelling or confess to some horrid crime, Kurt couldn't quite decide on which.

Magnus ran his hand through his hair in defeat and muttered, "Nothing's wrong."

Kurt was sure he'd never heard a more unconvincing lie in his life. "Magnus…"

"Kurt!" Magnus exclaimed gesturing wildly with his hand, "I'm fucking fine, now let me get back to work."

Magnus walked out and Kurt was about to shout something rude and angry back at him when his phone rang. He drew a sharp breath hoping against reason that there hadn't been another one found. His hand almost shook when he picked up the phone and pressed it to his ear.

"Wallander."

A tinny voice on the other end introduced themselves as an officer Eriksson and then hesitated before continuing, "We've found another."

Kurt rubbed his forehead and forced back the nausea that was threatening to creep up his throat. "How old?"

"We're not sure yet, the body was…. very disfigured." The voice on the other end went silent and Kurt clenched his fist. "Who found him and where?"

"A biker stopped to take a leak out by Skönadalsvägen and found the poor thing lying amidst the nettles. Thrown away like garbage…just like the others."

Kurt let his head drop, feeling let down by the world and her infinite cruelties. Three teenage boys had been found around the countryside of Ystad, always right next to the road as if the killer had thrown them out of his car in haste. The first body had been found over two months ago by an old woman walking her dog who at the sight of it had suffered a cardiac arrest. Her dog had run to get help but by the time people arrived the woman was dead just like the boy. And yet the first victim hadn't been half as bad as the next two. The killer abducted his victims from public places, lured them into his car unseen, and kept them locked in a small space deprived of food and light for about a week. The coroner had reported that the boys had been beaten, tortured and repeatedly raped.

Kurt hung up the phone when he'd taken down the coordinates and pushed down the righteous anger building up inside of him at the thought of what those boys had been put through and what he would do to the man responsible once he'd found him.

"Magnus get in here." He called out as he violently yanked his suit jacket of the back of his chair. Magnus poked his head into his office looking mildly affronted and worried at the same time while clutching a slippery pile of folders. "They found another one. Put down whatever you're doing, we're going to the crime scene."

Magnus turned a bit pale and nodded before dropping the folders on a nearby chair and turning around. Kurt followed him out the door and to the car after letting their boss know what had happened. Watching Magnus walk in front of him Kurt notice a distinctive slump of his shoulders when he usually held himself almost proudly. He knew his young partner was taking the case and the fate of the boys harder than the rest of the team. In the beginning he had thought it was due to his age and inexperience but now he suspected something deeper, darker. When Magnus looked at the pictures there was recognition in his eyes, understanding and an underlying anger that he tried to hide from his teammates. Almost like he knew what the boys had gone through and that disturbed Kurt more than it should have. The thought of Magnus having gone through something similar made his insides scream and he couldn't for the life of him figure out what warranted such a reaction.

He climbed into the car and Magnus did the same, his young face sullen and unusually quiet. Magnus glared at him when he caught him looking but it held none of its usual venom, only a hint of desperation and tiredness. Kurt pulled out of the lot and turned his attention to the road as the autumn landscape passed by in a flurry of auburn, orange and grey. They drove along the coastline and Magnus rolled down the window taking deep breaths of the cold air which smelled of recent rainfall. The wind rippled through his blond curls and Kurt found himself staring at the unusual yet cherubic beauty that was Magnus Martinsson.

"You're staring at me again."

"No, I'm not," Kurt answered a bit too quickly and felt himself blush as Magnus chuckled infuriatingly.

"I was looking out the window. I thought I saw an osprey," Kurt lied, cringing inwardly at how weak a lie it was.

"An osprey?" Magnus said incredulously and stared at him with and insolent smirk on his finely shaped lips. "Here? At this time of year?"

"I said I thought I saw one, not that I definitely saw one; now can we drop it?" Kurt growled, feeling less and less sorry for the young detective.

"You need to work on your lying." Magnus smirked and raised a suggestive eyebrow.

_Of course he wouldn't drop it_. "Magnus I was not looking at you! Give me one good reason why I should be looking at you. Get your head on straight." Kurt snarled and instantly regretted it when the smile slipped of Magnus' face and he once again looked sad and tired beyond his years.

"I'm sorry," Kurt tried hopelessly. "I didn't mean that. I'm just…It's this case, it's sucking the life out of me."

Kurt glanced at the other man in time to see him nod in silent agreement. Magnus cleared his throat but sounded a bit shaky when he spoke, "Where was this one found? The body…"

"By the road like the others. A biker found him; we've ruled him out as a suspect." Magnus nodded again and Kurt continued. "They haven't been able to determine the age of the victim yet. Apparently the face is…beyond recognition. But we know that the killer has a fairly wide range in regards of taste."

"Yes, the youngest boy was only twelve while the oldest was seventeen. Judging by the pictures the families provided us with the killer seems to go rather for the way they look than their age which is strange when it comes to these kinds of preferential predators as they usually keep to a certain age group." Magnus injected with a look of distaste as he flipped through the file in his lap concerning the previous murder.

Kurt glanced at his partner again, noting not for the first time the disturbing similarity between Magnus and the victims. If Magnus had only been a few years younger he would have been a spitting image of the second victim. Kurt wondered if that was why the case was affecting Magnus so hard. He hoped that that was the only reason and not something worse, both for his own sake as well as Magnus'.


	2. Chapter 2

**What You Did**

**Chapter specific warnings: Some mutilated corpses and mentions of rape. **

They stopped the car by the side of the road as they were flagged down by police officers. Kurt stepped out of the car and one of the officers pointed a short way down the road to where a group of people were gathered. A number of officers were walking around the area, all looking rather pale and nauseated. Even the coroner looked like he'd seen better days when he greeted them. Kurt nodded in way of greeting and asked what he could tell him about the victim while trying to look everywhere but at the disfigured red shape in his peripheral vision.

"The victim has been stripped and tortured like the others." The coroner began, his voice coarse and dry like sandpaper. "He's suffered multiple fractures and breaks. There are ligature marks around the wrists, ankles and neck, probably from some sort of wire. I believe he died from asphyxia combined with dehydration no longer than twelve hours ago."

Kurt felt Magnus stirring behind him and glancing back he saw him staring intently at the boy's dead body with frightening intensity. "Magnus, you okay?"

Magnus immediately snapped out of whatever trance he was in and looked at Kurt almost fearfully before regaining his posture. "Yes, I'm fine…it's just…" He waved his hand absently over the scene ahead of him before turning around, hands on his hips and letting out a huge sigh while looking into the grey afternoon sky. Magnus shut his eyes and tried to control his breathing as Kurt walked up next to him.

"You know it's nothing to be embarrassed about…being affected by this."

"I'm not embarrassed." Magnus snapped and tore his gaze away from the sky.

"Good," Kurt responded quickly and followed Magnus' eyeline across the muddy fields and meadows, "but I know something else is bothering you."

The other man huffed and crossed his arms. "It's nothing…"

"I know it's something…"

"It has nothing to do with the case!" Magnus snapped and began walking back to the car.

_I really need to work on my people skills_, Kurt thought sullenly, pinching the bridge of his nose between his eyes.

"Detective," the coroner called and Kurt turned and saw the man crouching down next to the victim. "There's something on his neck that I didn't see before with the leaves covering it."

"What is it?" Kurt crouched down next to him, feeling the unpleasant hindering that was his gut as he leaned forward, and noticed something like a scar on the victim's neck.

"It's a brand. Like how you brand animals. I can't quite tell what it is of but I think it might be some kind of star."

"Pentagram?"

"Why does you mind jump directly to Satanism, Wallander?" The coroner joked while he got to his feet.

"A pentagram protects against evil." Kurt muttered more to himself than the coroner. "Get me your report as soon as you can, okay."

"I'll do my best but there are a lot of murders happening right now as I'm sure you know."

"Yeah, I know," Kurt mumbled as his eyes drifted away from the gruesome scene, past the sad faces and across the vast expanse of open land in front of him. He knew this place was beautiful in the summer, and even now in its autumn glow it held a certain grace. But at the centre of it laid a murdered child, and that was all that mattered. In the face of such blatant horror all the beauty of the world fades away, and becomes meaningless.

Kurt looked over at his car and saw Magnus leaning against the passenger side door looking at his feet and still with his arms resolutely crossed. He pushed off the car when Kurt opened his door and avoided eye contact as he sat down. The ride back was quiet and Kurt kept stealing glances of his partner who was ignoring him. Kurt lost track on how many times he had considered pulling the car over and yell at Magnus until he told him what was wrong. What stopped him was the knowledge that despite his lithe form, Magnus would probably knock him on his ass and drive off without him. He also hated confrontations and would rather curl up with a glass of whiskey and watch daytime TV than arguing with a snarky youth. If Magnus wanted him to know then he would tell him and if it became an issue in regards to the case then he'd deal with it accordingly. Or not at all if he could help it.

"So what did the coroner have to say?" Magnus suddenly asked making Kurt startle as they pulled into the lot at the police station. "I saw you talking from the car."

"Oh…he told me he'd found some strange burn, like a brand, on the victim's neck. Shaped kind of like a star." Kurt answered, fiddling with his neckline, as they got out of the car and began walking towards the station. Kurt stopped and turned when he realised he hadn't heard the other door shut and saw Magnus standing as if frozen by the car. His hands were clenching the door and his face paler than ever.

"What the hell happened?" Kurt asked, feeling an unwarranted surge of panic in his chest as he hurried over to the other man. Magnus took a moment to look at him but then he quickly turned his face away and slammed the car door. Pressing the heels of his hands against his eyes he leaned back against the door in exasperation.

"Magnus what the hell is wrong with you?" The sentence came out a lot harsher than Kurt had intended and he inwardly scowled himself.

"Nothing…" Magnus muttered from behind his hand, "I just remembered something."

"What?" Kurt asked, not quite managing to keep the impatience out of his voice. Magnus let his hands drop and gave Kurt a look he couldn't interpret.

"I'm going home. I won't be any help to you on this case." Magnus walked away from the car towards his own on the other side of the lot leaving Kurt momentarily speechless. _When had he ever given up on anything? _

"What? Why?" Kurt spun around and yelled after him.

"Goodbye Kurt." Magnus shut the door and Kurt watched him drive away feeling completely at a loss of what he should do.


	3. Chapter 3

**What You Did**

"Where's Magnus?" Ann-Britt asked the moment Kurt stepped through the door.

"He went home," Kurt muttered as he sat down at the table opposite her.

"Home? Why?"

"He wasn't feeling like himself." Kurt replied, feeling strangely guilty and very confused by the recent turn of events. "Has he spoken to you at all? About what's been bothering him?"

"No." She looked worried and leaned forward with a sympathetic look in her big, brown eyes. "Sorry."

Kurt frowned and knew needed to do something. He should never have let Magnus drive away like that. The man might infuriate him to no end at times but he couldn't deny the other feeling hiding in the background. Something deep and growing that he hadn't felt since he was young. Something forbidden that was never meant to be his. And despite knowing that he wanted it, craved it even, he wouldn't fight for it. Magnus deserved youth, beauty and happiness, not a bitter old man with a beer gut and too many sad stories.

"Do you think I should call and make sure he's alright?" Ann-Britt asked reaching out to grab her phone.

"No, he probably wants to be alone." Kurt shook his head and sighed, somehow feeling like he was making a big mistake.

The subject of Magnus was dropped and they returned to their work. The task of finding out the identity of the latest victim proved difficult. The boy's face had been basically torn off and no identification had been left on the body. No-one had been reported missing either which differed from the other boys who had been reported almost immediately by their families. Kurt looked over the crime scene pictures again, feeling distinctly like he was making no leeway what so ever.

He glanced up at Ann-Britt and saw her immersed in her computer, eyes moving rapidly up and down the screen. Kurt fiddled with the phone in his pocket, considering listening to the gnawing unease in his stomach and call Magnus. But the idea of the other man yelling at him and politely telling him to fuck off made the prospect slightly less appealing. Magnus could take care of himself, Kurt convinced himself. He was a grown man and he didn't need Kurt running around playing mother hen.

"Kurt you need to take a look at this." Ann-Britt said startling him out of him out of his musings. She turned the computer around showing him a picture of half a spindly four-edged star, similar to a diagonally split hexagram.

"It's called an Aciestella, basically an edge star. The first part of the word also translates to battle, penetration and eyesight. The precise origin of the symbol is unknown but it's believed to symbolize the peril of only living a half-life." Kurt frowned and was about to voice his confusion when Ann-Britt turned the computer back to her and scrolled down the page.

"There's a mention in the _Historia Retentia_ that goes like this: _And on the sixth day following the seventh night of his journey our hero of yore bestowed upon thee a warning to thy descendants. On thy heinous flesh did he thou mark so that all thy children and their children would always remember thy crime and shame. A symbol of reverence and recollection bestowed upon thee to remember how thou by foolishness squandered away thine youth and life on sinister deeds. The Acienstella of the old ways to guide thy path is given and by its gracious devices may thee find the path to righteousness and true living. _It goes on for about half a page about how this man wasted his life away by sitting around doing nothing. The jest of it is that by receiving this brand the man was guided to start his life and move on from past grievances."

"None of this is making any sense." Kurt rubbed his eyes exasperatedly. "What do these boys have to do with some obscure text? It's not like there's a religious element to the killings. The killer is just animal aggression, sadism and control. Is he trying to throw us off or is he actually trying to convince himself there's something more to the killings than just perverted desires?"

Kurt looked back at the files in front of him. The boys had been tied up for days without food or water. Minute metal flakes in the wounds around their wrists and ankles suggested the use of a wire as restraint. The coroner had suggested piano wire. Ann-Britt closed her computer and went to get her jacket but Kurt paid her no heed, lost in thought. Why this sudden change? Why the symbol? None of the previous victims had been marked. But maybe that was just it. Maybe that was all it was. A mark. A way for the killer to show his possession of them even in death. Maybe the symbol itself was meaningless and all that mattered was the statement.

"I don't know Kurt." Ann-Britt sighed heavily bringing him back to the present. "But it's late, and the coroner's report won't be in till tomorrow. We should both get some sleep."

"Right." Kurt looked about the room, surprised to find they were the only ones left. "Right, I'll see you tomorrow."

"Take care, Kurt." She called over her shoulder while walking towards the door. "And call Magnus or you won't get any sleep tonight."

Kurt smiled half-heartedly at the closing door before pulling up his phone and somewhat hesitantly dialling the number. Bringing the phone to his ear he swallowed heavily waiting for the other man to answer.

"_This is Martinsson…"_

"Hi, it's Kurt…"

"_I'm not in right now but you can leave a message after the beep. Don't talk too long._"

Kurt swore and hung up the phone. He shouldn't have called in the first place but the answering machine still annoyed the heck out of him. But why hadn't he answered? Magnus always answered in case there was a case. Kurt was half considering driving over to his place and banging on his door until he opened but decided against it. He was overreacting. Magnus just needed some time to himself and it wasn't his place to intrude even though the silence was driving him insane. After a long internal battle Kurt settled on calling him once an hour instead of breaking down the door.

He'd be fine. Magnus was always fine.

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Magnus shut the door behind him soundlessly, unwilling to alert even a speck of dust to his presence. His apartment was empty, as it always was, but today the silence of the dead rooms was deafening. He stood there for a moment just listening. Listening for the sound of a home but found none. He shrugged his jacket off and left it on the floor as he made his way down the hall to the bathroom. He flicked the light on and was appalled to see the pasty man staring back at him in the mirror. Memories and emotions he thought he'd long since buried kept cropping up and made him search the shadows for some hidden menace waiting to grab him. He shut his eyes against the bright florescent light and pushed back the tears that were threatening to break free from behind his eyelids.

His hand shook as he slid it up the inside his sweater and felt the mark on his shoulder. It had never fully healed and still pained him to this day. With an angry snarl he pulled his hand out and slammed it against the sink. The brutal waves of pain that ripped through him were calming and he took a shaky breath. He shouldn't have taken off from the station like that. Kurt would be worried and probably call him endlessly. A part of him wanted him to. He often teased Kurt about his stolen glances but in secrecy he cherished them. They made him feel wanted and sometimes even beautiful. But he knew Kurt would never act on his desires since he was just as broken as he was. _Maybe that's why I like him so much_, Magnus thought.

A car alarm made him jump and he laughed mirthlessly at his reflection. He knitted his brow in thought, knowing he'd missed something, then slammed his palm to his forehead when he realised it was his car alarm that was shrieking like a banshee. Fuck, fuck, fuck. He rushed out of the apartment leaving his jacket behind and tore down the staircase and into the chilly afternoon air. He looked around wildly while he ran cursing to his car and slammed his fist onto the scraped and keyed hood. Pain shot through his already abused hand and he yelled loudly in anger, caring not a whit if the neighbours though him insane.

He shut his eyes and leaned against the car. _Get a fucking grip, Magnus. It was twelve years ago_. _No-one's coming for you_. He heard rapid footsteps approach and barely had time enough to open his eyes before there was a sharp pain in his neck. He grabbed his neck but the swift movement overbalanced him and he stumbled forward. In his drug muddled state he would have crashed to the ground if not for the strong arms that grabbed him and led him... somewhere. Darkness took him and the smell of sickly sweet cologne he'd hoped he would never smell again engulfed him.

**A/N: Don't bother checking out the **_**Historia Retentia**_** or the Acienstella on the internet. I made them up. Many hugs and kisses to my lovely readers. **


	4. Chapter 4

What You Did

The next day Wallander spent five hours searching through the old crime files kept in the dank basement of the police station. Too dank it turned out when he finally came across a promising file in the cold case section only to have it crumble into a mouldy wet mess in his hands.

"Dammit!" cried Kurt and crouched down on the floor between the overstocked shelves and gathered the ruined papers in his hands. He leaned against a shelf which swayed ominously against his weight and carefully separated the moist pages. The file was marked 1995, twelve years ago, and told of an incident disturbingly familiar yet new.

"…the boy was found walking alone along Malmövägen." Kurt read aloud to himself in a low murmur. "He was unclothed apart from a pair of underwear, which were bloodied, and a white adult-sized shirt, also bloodied but in a criss-cross pattern on his back. When officers approached the boy he was unresponsive to their calls but when they touched him he became violent and lashed out. As soon as he'd been restrained he lost consciousness and was taken to the hospital…" The remainder of the page was unreadable and as Kurt flipped through the rest of the papers he realised that many of them were missing including the medical report and most importantly the one containing the boy's information.

What he did find was the name of the detective who had worked the case, Stefan Svensson, who happened to be an old acquaintance of his. They hadn't met in years, long before the other man had retired. Not because of some falling out or the like, but simple because they'd both been busy on their end. Kurt with working himself to an early grave and he suspected something similar with Stefan despite him being retired. He didn't know him well but knew enough about old cops to know that when the retired they didn't just settle down and knit until the cows came home, they kept busy and were always secretly waiting for that phone call telling them that the unsolved case that had been gnawing at them for twenty years was finally coming to a close.

So it was without a shade of doubt that Kurt gathered up the disintegrating file and tucked it under his arm and once he'd arrived back to his desk began flipping through his address book for the old copper's number. He called up and a sleepy voice responded on the other line but soon perked up at the mention of the unsolved case and they set a meet in half an hour. There had been something worried and almost fearful in the other man's voice that put Kurt on edge.

When Kurt hung up he felt both relieved that they might finally be getting somewhere in the case but also a sickening dead of where that result might lead. He fingered the keyboard on his cell phone hesitantly then tapped in Magnus' number without much hope of a reply. When the same annoying answering machine sounded in his ear he terminated the call and shoved the phone into his pocket. _Why the hell isn't he answering?_ Kurt thought angrily and not a little concerned.

On his way out he spotted Ann-Britt in front of her computer with Nyberg hanging over her shoulder.

"Kurt!" she called out and grabbed a folder lying beside her laptop. "Coroner's report on the latest victim."

"Thank you…" Kurt muttered as he accepted the folder and tossed the old case file onto the table making a cloud of mould spores dance in the air.

"Kurt, what the hell!" Nyberg complained with his mouth covered behind his shirtsleeve and Ann-Britt gave him a most displeased look before returning her gaze to her computer.

"It's not toxic." Kurt reassured them as he spread the content of the coroner's report on the table. He refrained from sitting down due to the slight hurry he was in and leaned over the table to read it. The boy's name was Per Alm and he was fifteen years old, blonde and blue eyes. Back at the crime scene Kurt hadn't been able to tell either his hair colour or age due to the blood covering his entire body. It said in the report the boy's face had been removed post mortem with a sharp, short knife, possibly a scalpel. Seven of the boy's fingers had been broken and marks underneath his nails suggested some sort of thin metallic objects had been inserted under them, presumably needles.

Kurt dragged his hand over his forehead, feeling queasy. There were several lacerations covering the boy's back from a whip or similar and he had just like the boy's before him been starved for an unclear amount of days. One big difference between this boy and the others was that there was no evidence of him being confined in a cramped space. Judging by the ligature marks he had been tied to a chair most of the time. There was also evidence of him being hoisted up by the arms at some point, most likely when he was whipped and raped. Also unlike the previous victims they had found traces of methylenedioxymethamphetamin e (ecstasy) and etrophine, which was a quick-working tranquilizer, in his blood.

Kurt's eyes drifted from the papers in front of him and he felt a familiar sense of hopelessness take him over and his eyes stung with the unshed tears of desperation and sadness. When he found this man…no he was not worthy of that title, of any title but monster, he would kill him. He would rip him to shreds and end his life in the most painful way possibly. His career could go to hell and so could his life for all he cared. He wasn't doing anything useful with either anyway. But if he ripped the life out of this monster, this destroyer of innocence, his life would not be in vein. There was almost a sense of religious redemption to his thoughts that made him pause and scowl inwardly. He didn't want redemption, he wanted revenge on the behalf of those boys who had been ripped from life more cherished than his and he wanted it now. Wanted his and their pain to end and for that monster to never hurt another child again and _why the hell was Magnus still not picking up his phone!_

"Ann-Britt have you heard from Magnus yet?" Kurt asked a bit harsher than he'd intended and chided himself when she startled. "Sorry, I didn't mean to snap."

"That's okay Kurt," she spoke calmly and overly understanding in Kurt's opinion, making him wonder if she suspected his feelings towards the younger man. "No I haven't heard from him yet but it's still early morn and it's possible he's just sulking in his apartment. You know how he gets. Always on edge, recently more so than usual."

"I've tried calling him but he's not picking up." Kurt said while he gathered up the papers and stuffed them back in the folder and then on top of the mouldy case file so he wouldn't forget either.

"Maybe he just doesn't want to talk to you?" Nyberg added helpfully with a hint of glee.

"Do you want me to drive by his place?" Ann-Britt asked ignoring Nyberg's comment and still sounded a bit too gentle in her tone of voice when she spoke to Kurt.

"No, I'll drop by after meeting with Svensson." Kurt said, suddenly wishing to be very far away from all of them.

"Not Stefan right? Why are you meeting that old git?" Nyberg asked making Kurt sigh and glance at his watch. He was going to be late.

"I'll tell you late if it pans out. I have to go." He grabbed the folders and without a second glance at his colleges.

Kurt hurried out the building and got in his car after dumping the folders on the passenger seat and was engulfed in another cloud of spores. Coughing he rolled down the windows hoping his assessment on the hazard level of said spores had been accurate. There was a nip in the air and the grey sky held a sense of foreboding in its laurel green clouds. Like a thunderstorm hanging just out of reach, all the while being threatened by something fouler and older.

He parked the car on the street near Hartmans Cafe and collected the files into his arms. He set off down the street and gazed into the unnaturally dark sky once more before entering the café. A familiar face caught his attention the moment he was through the door and he waved back a bit less enthusiastically than the other man as he made his way over to his table in the corner by the window.

"Kurt!" the man roared like a very happy bear and clasped his hand. "It's been too long."

Kurt let go of his hand with a half-hearted smile and disposed of the folders carefully this time on a vacant chair not wanting to have the mouldy one to close to the cup of coffee waiting for him.

"I almost though you'd stood me up." Stefan said over the rim of his half empty teacup. He looked just the same as Kurt remembered him except for a few more grey hairs and the blue and purple sweater he was wearing.

"Busy at work," Kurt replied. "You know how it gets."

"Oh, I do. Indeed I do." There was something sorrowful and longing in his voice but he quickly picked himself up and clasped his hands together around his teacup. "So, what can I do for you Kurt?"

"There's a case I've been working on that I think might be related to one of yours." Kurt said while putting the folders in his lap and was about to continue when Stefan held up his hand.

"I think I know which case you're referring to. I heard about the dead boys." He smiled solemnly and continued, "You want to know about the boy we found by the road twelve years ago."

"Yes, anything you can tell me." Kurt answered excitedly feeling that he was getting somewhere finally. He was however puzzled by the awkward look on the other man's face.

"Do you have the case file with you?" Stefan asked, his eyes drifting between the folders and his teacup.

"I have but it won't be much use to you since most of it is either missing or ruined." Stefan nodded and his complete lack of surprise or anger at these news disturbed Kurt. "I think it's time you tell me what you know Stefan. As far as we know this boy is the only one who has survived an encounter with the killer."

Stefan looked at him hesitantly and sipped his tea. "It was a long time ago but I remember it as though it was yesterday." He looked up from his tea and there was a sadness in his eyes that betrayed his desire to keep the story buried.

"I was the first on the scene that morning. My car had broken down and I'd hitched a ride with a young officer back to the station when he spotted something out the car window. It took me awhile to see what he was pointing at, the rain was so thick, but then I saw this sad form walking by the road. Little, could only be a child. I thought it was a girl at first. The shirt he was wearing looked like a pink dress…but I soon realised it was blood when we stepped out of the car. Blood running down his legs…His feet were bare and cut from walking. I never found out how long he'd walked."

Stefan cleared his throat and took another small sip of tea. "We called out to him and he stopped but didn't turn around. I walked up to him and tried to get him to tell me what had happened but he kept his eyes glued to the ground. He wasn't shaking. I was. It was freezing. He seemed impervious to the cold. I reached out and grabbed his shoulder and he screamed and began punching and kicking me. The officer pulled him off me but the kid was too weak to do any real damage to me. Then he suddenly stopped fighting and just passed out. From exhaustion or shock I don't know but he went out like a light. We put him in the back of the car while we waited for the ambulance to arrive and that was when we saw the cuts all over his back through the fabric. It looked like someone had whipped the kid senseless and then…the blood between his legs and on his underwear could only mean one thing… something I'd rather not think about."

Stefan fell silent and wrapped his arms around himself both defiantly and protectively. Kurt looked down at his own hand and found that it was shaking.

"Who…Who was he? The boy?" Kurt met his eye and the other man quickly and shamefully looked away.

"He made me promise never to tell anyone."

"Stefan who is he?!" Kurt growled and Stefan met his angry gaze.

Stefan scowled then said, "He's a cop now. Magnus Martinson."


	5. Chapter 5

What You Did

Kurt stared at Stefan for a moment frozen in chock then tore out of his chair and rushed out of the café not caring about the waitress he bumped into or the sound of breaking china. While he ran to his car he desperately yanked his phone out of his pocket and started dialling a number he sorely regretted not putting into speed dial.

"Magnus pick the fuck up!" He yelled as he threw himself into his car and slammed the door shut.

"_This is Martinson; I'm not in right now…"_

"Fuck!" Kurt yelled and pulled out of the parking space and set off down the road. He would never know how many traffic violations he committed racing through the streets to Magnus' apartment building. He parked the car haphazardly by the road and banged on the front door shouting "police" until someone opened and he sprinted up the stairs. He came to a full stop when he reached Magnus' door and saw it wide open. It felt like his world was spinning when he stepped into the hallway. What little breath was left in his body seemed stolen away from him and he slid down the wall in despair. Magnus wasn't there. Judging by the same chilly temperature both inside the flat and outside in the stairwell he hadn't been for a while.

He pulled his phone out of his pocket with trembling hands and called the station. Ann-Britt answered and he somehow managed to relay the information he needed to pass on about Magnus being missing. In a haze he heard her yelling orders at people around her through the phone and soon the reassuring sound of police cars sounded outside the building from the road.

"_Are you okay Kurt?" _Ann-Britt's concerned voice queried.

He snapped his head back up from his knees and muttered while fighting back tears, "It's all my fault."

"_Kurt you couldn't have known he'd been taken."_ Ann-Britt's tinny voice tried to assure him.

"Well I bloody well should have done more than just call!" shouted Kurt and banged his fist against the carpeted floor.

"_And you did."_ She sounded scared and worried and Kurt finally realised that he was not the only one upset about his discovery. _"You're the one who went to his apartment, not me."_

He dragged his hand across his face and got up from his slump. "We don't know what happened yet. Maybe it has nothing to do with the killer we're chasing. Maybe Magnus just…" _Maybe Magnus just…what? Went out for an all-night stroll and forgot to put on his jacket and close his door?_

Kurt sighed and stepped out into the hall when the police officers and Nyberg cramped themselves into the small apartment.

"We'll find him," Kurt sighed though he wasn't sure if he believed it himself.

"_I'm sure we will."_ Ann-Britt responded with the same lack of conviction. _"You need to come in and brief us on what's going on. About what you found out from Svensson; it's about Magnus isn't it? That's why you rushed to his apartment? You found something connected to the case?"_

"Yeah, I'll be back in a moment. I'm just going to…I'll be back in a moment." Kurt hung up the phone and heard Nyberg exclaim, "Who the hell lives like this?"

He pushed past the officers back into the apartment and immediately saw what Nyberg had been referring to. Apart from a few books on the book shelf in the living room the walls were bare and plain. There was no television, no family photographs or other knick-knacks indicating that anyone actually lived there. Kurt walked further down the hall and looked into the bedroom which appeared just as sterile as the living room. Bed made, clean white sheets and no pictures. Nothing there at all to indicate that Magnus was a real human being with his own history and memories. This was not a home, just a place to stay in when you had nowhere else to go.

"Strange isn't it?" Nyberg said from the doorway. "How you think you know someone and they turn out to be a complete freak."

"Nyberg could you just…" Kurt turned around to snap at him but he had already gone.

Kurt huffed and sunk down on the bed and rested his forehead on the palm of his hand. He has a point though, Kurt thought exasperatedly. They had known Magnus for years but still they knew nothing about him. Nothing about his home life, girlfriends or boyfriends, or anything about his childhood. Kurt was ashamed to admit he'd never bothered to ask. It's not that he didn't care, just that he never knew when or what to ask and Magnus certainly wasn't the easiest person to get close to. He had for a long time suspected something dark lurking in Magnus' past and now he had proof. Proof he found himself really wishing could be erased and turned into a very real but imaginary nightmare.

In his mind's eye he could see the young boy Magnus once was walking down the night-time road covered in his own blood and he wondered how that damaged boy grew up to be the man he was now and he was filled with an almost fatherly sense of pride. The brief light that had been kindled faded at the idea of that boy going back to the man who hurt him so and having to live through it all again. Kurt shot up from the bed and pushed past the protesting officers. He needed to find Magnus now. Wishing desperately for a sign as to where to start looking he knew that if he failed he would never forgive himself.

xzxxzxxzx

Wake up

Magnus' heart raced as he tried to move his hands but found them tied up with something cold and narrow. Wire, his panicked mind filled in the gap and when he tried to take a deep breath found he couldn't due to another wire pressing against his throat. His eyelids were heavy and his face felt equally so. He tried to open his eyes but the thought of it alone made his head pound. Everything felt too close and too sharp. The fabric against his skin felt like sandpaper and the hair tickling his forehead like needles. Whatever he had been injected with had put his senses on high alert and he could feel everything all the more clearly.

He tugged on the restraints and let out an agonized howl of desperation and pain when the unyielding wire cut into his skin. Warm sticky blood dripped from his fingers and tears welled into his eyes. Dread like ice filled his veins and he couldn't stop the tremors racking through his body and he let out a hopeless sigh sounding almost like a laugh.

Movement. He snapped his eyes open but saw only darkness and the faint sound he'd heard he was unable to locate. The room was cold and smelled mouldy like an old basement or maybe an abandoned summer house. It didn't matter where he was; all that mattered was who he was with. Fighting the panic raging inside of him he whispered into the dark, "I thought you'd forgotten about me, Karl."

Silence…and then a coarse voice, "How could I ever forget about you, angel?"

Movement again and Magnus shut his eyes tightly and fought the whimper escaping his throat when he felt calloused fingers grazing his cheek. Nausea gripped him when a thumb caressed his lower lip and he tried to move his head away but the wire cut into his neck making him hiss in pain.

"Shush, sweetheart. Karl's missed you so much." Two hands grasped Magnus' jaw and dry rough lips met his. It wasn't a kiss. Something so brutal and possessive doesn't deserve such a sweet name as kiss. Magnus felt the bitter tears of defeat roll down his cheeks and knew that this time there was no way out.


	6. Chapter 6

What You Did

"You know you were always the best. The most beautiful and the best. The first time I saw you I thought you had put me under some spell, an enchantment that blocked out the rest of the world and made me only see you in all your radiant beauty." The man's hand was wrapped tightly in Magnus' hair and he spoke silently into his ear with his cheek pressed against his.

"I was breathless when I saw you for the first time walking against me on the street. I had given up on life and God after my brother died and there you were. An angel walking towards me. The light of morning was like a halo around your golden head and with eyes bluer than the sky you looked at me and smiled. You passed be by and I was frozen. Not in desire, not in lust, but in reverence. Your beauty was that of dominions and seraphim and it swallowed me whole."

Karl pulled away, running his lips across his skin, and grabbed Magnus' face with his hands, slowly caressing his cheekbones with his thumbs. Magnus flinched away and the man Karl hushed him again and pressed his lips to his forehead. Magnus was trembling uncontrollably under the unwanted touch but refused to shed another tear for the man who had destroyed his life all those years ago and was back to unravel it again. He swallowed down his fear and said with a trembling voice betraying the terror he felt, "Karl, what do you want?"

"WHAT DO I WANT!? What do you think I want?" Karl yelled and Magnus couldn't help but to let out a fearful whimper as terror cold as ice slithered down his spine. He remembered all too clearly what had happened the last time he'd made Karl angry. The pain the memory brought with it was almost as tactile as the wire cutting into him now and he felt warm tears roll down his cheeks again and he whispered, "I'm sorry Karl."

When Karl kissed him again he almost kissed back so big was his relief that the other man was no longer angry at him and he instantly felt revolted with himself. Karl continued to drag his fingers through his blonde curls and their eyes met. Clear blue-green met dusty brown and Magnus shivered when Karl tenderly wiped his tears away. Magnus shut his eyes and tried in vain to stop his trembling and control the nausea when he felt lips being pressed to his eye lid and a whispering voice, "I want you, silly."

Karl pulled away smiling and Magnus forced himself to look at him. "The others could not compare to you. They were nothing, standing in the shadow of your all-encompassing light. I tried to cherish them like I had you but they were never you. They were filthy and ugly underneath, while you were beautiful through and through. I want that again. I want you again, my angel. I want what we had, how you made me feel…I should never have let you go."

Magnus felt the last of his strength leave him and he let the tears of defeat roll down his cheeks unhindered.

"Please, Karl." He whispered, and the whisper soon turning into begging as Karl got up from his crouch and started walking away.

"Please, Karl please! Don't do this to me again! Please! I can't…I can't live through this again! Please!" Magnus yelled through his tears and continued doing so even after the door to the basement closed and the sound of footsteps faded into nothing.

"Karl, please! Fuck! I'm gonna fucking kill you! Please don't leave me down here! Karl!" Magnus screamed and didn't care if he didn't make any sense. None of this made any sense. This was supposed to have happened already. This was supposed to be in the past. Far away but not forgotten. Never forgotten.

"Karl…" His voice had lost all its strength and his throat was sore from screaming and he felt dizzy from the blood loss. A part of him, a part he hated, kept telling him to get Karl back down there with him. Telling him that if he kept him happy and did what he was told everything would be okay. That it wouldn't hurt as much and that then he could go home, just like Karl had told him twelve years ago when he first brought him to the basement. He hunched his head and wept bitterly, clenching and unclenching his bloodied hands, desperately trying to find something bright and hopeful within himself to hold on to but found nothing.

When he finally ran out of tears he looked around in the dark, feeling like he was looking through someone else's eyes despite how much more real the drug coursing through his system made every sensation. The darkness was almost opaque but he could make out a low table on the other side of the room and a staircase on his right. It was with detached interest he remembered that he'd been tied up with rope the last time and wondered what was in store for him. Crime scene pictures of mutilated bodies, Karl's other victims, flashed into his mind. Karl had gotten a lot angrier over the years he realised and the observation only made him feel numb, not fearful. It was like he'd run out of fear as well as tears and a heavy sense of hopelessness grabbed on to him. Karl would not let him go this time and he didn't know why he had before.

The sound of creaking floorboards brought him back to reality and the old fear returned but was not as incapacitating this time. The basement door opened and the floor in front of him was momentarily flooded with dusty light which then became brighter and permanent at the sound of a light switch being flicked on. He closed his eyes to shield them from the brightness that made his brain scream and he wished for darkness again.

The sound of a chair being dragged and hands grabbed his knees made him jump and he forced his eyes open. He was met by a face he had seen in his most secret nightmares and would know everywhere. Karl looked the same as he remembered him, only a little older and perhaps more muscled. His crooked nose, thin mouth and cold eyes were the same and so were the calloused hands resting on his knees, slowly making their way upwards. He opened his mouth in silent protest but was hushed before he could make a noise and promptly clasped his mouth shut. He let his gaze drop to the hands gripping his legs and heard Karl take a sharp breath as he squeezed his thighs hard enough to bruise. Karl then let out a content sigh and loosened his grip and went on to rub his legs back and forth with obvious relish.

Magnus squeezed his eyes shut and swallowed down the sick creeping up his throat. Gathering what courage and determination he had left he opened his eyes and said, "Karl, can I ask you something?"

Even to his own ears he sounded pathetic asking for permission but he really wanted to stay on Karl's good side.

"Yes of course you can, pet." Karl looked up at him and smiled and at the same time slid one of his hands down the inside of Magnus' thigh making him flinch violently. Karl started moving his hand back and forth again and Magnus' breath hitched and new tears were brought to his eyes when his finger brushed past his clothed member. "You can ask me anything."

Magnus blinked back his tears and tried to shut out the close to electrical feeling in his loins brought on by the drug. He was surprised at how soft his voice came out when he spoke. "Why did you let me go?"

Karl met his eyes and slowly pulled his hands back a bit much to Magnus' relief. But a new worry crept upon him at the look in Karl's eyes and the other man brought up his hand and cupped Magnus' cheek. "I let you go because I love you, Magnus."

"What else could I do when I saw you lying there on the cold floor? Do you remember how we made love and how beautiful it was? How beautiful you were in your pain and how wonderful and strong you made me feel? I have never felt as strong as when you submitted to me and let me take you…"

"I never let you take me!" Magnus cried, his anger now as strong as his fear. "You broke me down! There was nothing left of me when you were done! I haven't let anyone touch me since then and we never made love. You raped me! Tortured me! You…" He was cut off by a slap across his face. Karl rose from his chair and stood looming over him.

He grabbed his hair and yelled, "You will not speak to me like that!"

Karl tugged on his hair with such force and Magnus couldn't hold back the yelp that escaped his lips when several strands of his hair was dislodged from his scalp and he felt thin trickles of blood run down his neck and forehead. Karl let go of his hair and instead grabbed his chin and forced his head up in an unnatural angle.

"You will learn to respect me again, angel."


	7. Chapter 7

What You Did

Kurt entered the police station in a hurry and when straight for the personnel files kept in one of the meticulously neat drawers in Holgersson's office. It took him less than fifteen seconds to find Magnus' file and he knew that he in fact had that very same man's perfectionistic obsessiveness to thank for it since he'd been the one coerced into sorting out every paper and file in the station.

Kurt was running out of ideas on how to find Magnus' kidnapper so now it felt like he was grasping at straws as he flipped through the confidential documents. Nyberg, Lisa and Ann-Britt were all going through the old case to see if they had missed anything. Any previously overlooked seminaries between the crimes, a face in the crowd or a drop of blood not matching the victim's. Anything at all.

He pulled out the page with Magnus' contact information and stomped into the meeting room where Nyberg and Lisa were pouring over coroner's reports and crime scene photos. Ann-Britt was currently away talking to the latest victim's family and Kurt kept his fingers crossed.

"I'm going for a ride. Gonna see if I can get anything out of Magnus' mother. See if she remembers anything. Could you guys try and squeeze some more info out of Svensson when you're done?" said Kurt while rushing past and grabbing a cinnamon roll, something inside him nagging him about his blood pressure, before turning around to his colleagues. "Has anyone informed her about her son? Have you found anything in the case files?"

"I called his mother a few minutes ago, sounded like she was in shock." Lisa said looking up from the gory pictures. "Sorry, we haven't found anything yet."

"Keep at it." Kurt pulled on his jacket and threw the cinnamon roll away, to nauseous to eat, and heard Nyberg groan, "We're never gonna find anything new in here. This is a waste of time. If this guy's got Magnus I don't see how there's anything we can do for him. He's probably in pieces by now."

Kurt froze in his track and stared at Nyberg not quite believing what he was hearing. Pointing angrily at him with fury coursing through him he snarled, "Don't you ever say that again! Do you hear me? Don't ever say that!"

"Kurt, he didn't mean anything by it." Lisa exclaimed.

"Yeah, right." Kurt huffed not having time nor care to enter into an argument. "Call me if you find anything."

xzxxzxxzx

The ride to Folketstorpvägen felt longer than any ride through the streets of Ystad had the right to. Impatiently tapping his fingers on the steering wheel and yelling obscenities at other drivers through closed windows Kurt made his way through the rush hour traffic.

When he finally arrived the sight of Mrs Martinson standing in the doorway with a closed off expression and cigarette burning the stained skin betwixt her fingers seemed less than encouraging. When he introduced himself he was bid to enter with a curt nod and as he passed her by he noticed a glassy look in her eye and wafts of alcohol. _Shock, more like hungover from a lifetime of drinking temporarily suspended_, Kurt mused in annoyance.

"Mrs Martinson I'm going to ask you some questions. Do you think you're up for that?" Kurt asked when she sat down at the dilapidated kitchen table. He remained leaning against the doorframe, weary and on edge. He didn't care if he came off as crude or uncaring towards the woman, all that mattered was the answers she might provide and that he didn't have any more time to waste.

"Elsa…My name's Elsa." She replied, voice hoarse from disuse and smoking. "Nobody's called me Mrs Martinson since my Albert died eighteen years ago."

"Okay, Elsa…you know what has happened to your son?" asked Kurt, shifting from one foot to the other.

"Someone took him." Elsa said while looking blindly out the window, her eyes puffy and face prematurely aged making her look like a woman in her sixties rather than early fifties.

Kurt walked up to the table and said in a forced gentle tone, "I need you to tell me about what happened when he was fourteen."

Her eyes snapped to his and then turned away in shame. "Nothing happened."

"Mrs Martinson, I know Magnus was taken before by a man and that he hurt him. Now it is possible that the same man has taken him again. Do you have any idea who it might have been?" Kurt fought to keep the anger and desperation out of his voice. _How could she be in denial about this now? _

"It's Elsa." She sneered as she got up from her seat and grabbed a half-empty bottle of Jack from the sink. "Nothing happened to Magnus. We were happy."

Kurt pushed off the table and grabbed the bottle from her hands. Slamming it back down on the sink making her yelp, he yelled, "I don't have time for this! Magnus doesn't have time for this! Tell me what happened!"

The front door slammed and he backed off from Mrs Martinson who was blubbering nonsensically about how perfect everything had always been at home. A young woman with wild curly hair and even wilder eyes wearing a dangerously green coat barged into the kitchen. Her eyes flicked from the woman to Kurt and then back again.

"You got to be fucking joking!" She snarled and pushed past Kurt and grabbed the woman's arm in one hand and the bottle in the other. "This is the choice you make! This is what you do – again?"

"You don't get to come in here and judge me, Viktoria!" The old woman hissed and pulled away from her daughter.

"Oh yes I do!" Viktoria growled and threw the bottle across the room making it thunk but not break against the wall.

"Whoa, take it easy!" Kurt tried to get between the two women but Viktoria shoved him out of the way with a surprising amount of strength.

"You never looked out for him! The last time…I was the one who had to pick up the pieces! You never cared what happened to him!"

"Excuse me!" Kurt said loudly. "Can I talk to you for a minute?"

Viktoria turned around and finally acknowledged him. "Are you police?" Kurt nodded and she turned back to Mrs Martinson, "Mother, go to bed."

"You don't get to tell…"

"Now!" Viktoria yelled and pointed towards the stairs. Her mother huffed, shooting them both angry looks, but then slouched past them and up the stairs. Kurt and Viktoria stood in silence while they waited for the sound of a closing door and when it came the latter let out a relieved sigh.

"I won't apologize for mother. She's always been like that. Useless." She sat down at the cluttered table and Kurt hesitated before doing the same. For some reason it felt like he was getting more done if he was standing or pacing.

"Can you tell me about the time Magnus went missing before?" Kurt asked, holding his breath. "Your mother wasn't very forthcoming."

"I bet she wasn't." Viktoria huffed. "Do you have any clues about my brother? Have you found anything?"

Kurt sighed and rubbed his hand across his forehead. "No nothing yet. No forensic evidence, only a theory."

"What?"

"That whoever took him was the one who kidnapped him twelve years ago." Kurt replied, the words catching in his throat and making him feel sick as the memory of Svensson's story resurfaced.

"What, no!" Viktoria brought her hands up to her mouth with a gasp. "He can't go through that again! He won't survive."

Kurt clenched his fists and took a strengthening breath that didn't help one bit. "Do you have any idea who he is? The man…"

Viktoria lowered her hands but still looked devastated. "No, I'm sorry. Magnus never really talked about what happened. We had him sent to therapy but his doctor said it wasn't working so we stopped the sessions. Magnus just bottled everything down. He had really bad dreams for years after it happened. I'd wake up from him screaming and I would hug him until he stopped crying. He'd have this haunted, hollow look in his eyes. Like he'd seen and been through more than he could handle and just wanted it all to end. And the next day it was like nothing had happened. He was just Magnus again. He tried to act like nothing had happened but I saw he was different. He was more closed off and didn't seem to know what to do with himself. I tried to help him but lately we've grown apart. I think he's embarrassed to be around me. I think he hates that I saw him 'weak' and that seeing me again reminds him of what happened to him. He was gone for fifteen days…with that man."

She looked down at her hands and then turned her blue-green eyes to his. Kurt was momentarily stunned. Those eyes…She had Magnus' eyes. Kurt shut his eyes tightly, blocking out the image as emotions too strong to be contained welled up inside of him. The idea of never seeing Magnus' eyes again suddenly became all too real and filled him with such sadness and desperation that he thought his mind would break. He felt a cool hand rest upon his and looking up he found himself unable to properly face her.

Pulling his hand free and clearing his throat he asked, "Did….did he ever tell you what the man looked like or his name?"

She frowned and rubbed her jaw in thought. "Sometimes when he dreamed I…I think he called him Karl. He'd yell the name Karl."

"Karl…are you su…." He was interrupted by his phone bleeping. Quickly pulling it out of his pocket with trembling hands he answered breathlessly but there was only silence.

"What..?" Kurt looked down at the phone in profound confusion, well aware that technology hated him.

"Here…" Viktoria held out her hand and he gave her it to her with a sigh. She pressed a few buttons and passed it over to him again with a frown and concerned look on her face. "You've got a text from someone called Ann-Britt and two pictures."

Kurt looked at the screen but the moment he did it went black and he cursed. "Could you just tell me what it said and find the pictures again."

"It said: Found same man in 2 pics. Asking families now if they know him." She took the phone back looking almost as stressed as Kurt felt and showed him the pictures. They were details from two previous crime scene photos of the crowd, both showing a shadowy figure in the background. It was hard to tell by the grainy quality but it was definitively the same man. Tall and wearing a light-blue football cap.

Kurt took the phone from her hand and turned the picture towards her. "Have you ever seen this man before?"

"I don't know." She sighed exasperatedly. "He looks a bit like a guy who used to live down the road."

"What!" Kurt exclaimed. "Are you sure?"

"No, I'm not sure! He just looks a bit like the guy is all." She got up from her seat and turned around, hands on her hips.

"Okay, well…thank so much for your help." Kurt rose from the chair and she turned around and grabbed his hand.

"Just find my brother." She met his gaze and all Kurt could see was Magnus' eyes. "Find my brother, detective Kurt Wallander."

"I will…I'll find you."


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter specific warnings: things are getting nasty and gory around here**

What You Did

Magnus shut his eyes against the glaring light that he knew in reality was barely past a dim glow. The room seemed fluent and strangely shaped stars were dancing behind his eyelids. A rough hand grabbed his chin, someone shouting…a hard slap across his face turned the volume back up and his eyes snapped open. Karl was leaning over him, his fingers hurting his already bruised neck as he grasped him tightly.

The unmistakable sound of a zipper being pulled down sent chills down Magnus' spine and he had to fight the renewed panic building up inside him. The world suddenly turned very clear again. A rough hand grabbed his hair once more and he supressed a scream at the painful tug on his already abused scalp. The hand let go and he immediately felt a knife press against his left cheek.

"Look at me." Karl hissed from above him and Magnus shook his head minutely, making the blade cut into him, and squeezed his eyes shut. Blood trickled down his cheek and neck but it wasn't half as terrifying as the thing he knew Karl was holding in his other hand. At his negative reply the knife was pressed further into his skin and a thin voice in the back of his mind told him he was bound to have quite the scar if this continued.

"Open your eyes and look at me!" Karl yelled and Magnus startled against the sharpness in his voice rather than that of the blade. When he ran his tongue along the inside of his mouth he could feel the indentation of the cut. On one place a narrow slit was even going straight through his cheek to the inside of his mouth.

His scattered attention was rudely brought back to Karl when he felt the man's blunt hardness pressing against his lips. "You didn't mind doing this before, angel. Or maybe I should get Viktoria to help me out instead."

Magnus forced his eyes open and refusing to look anywhere else but the other man's eyes he slowly parted his lips. Tears dropped from his eyes, the salty fluid pouring into the vicious cut on his face, and Karl plunged into his mouth. Greedy hands kept him from turning his head away and he fought the urge to vomit. Karl's organ was too big and his taste combined with the blood flooding Magnus' mouth reminded him so strongly of the last time he'd done this that it felt like he had never left at all.

That voice in the back of his mind told him to finish this quickly and steeling his heart and stomach he started moving his head. He knew what Karl liked and kept the pace slow and meticulous, paying special attention to the sensitive tip and soon the man was moaning above him. The progress was painfully slow and he had to keep himself from biting down on instinct. After what felt like forever the fingers gripping the back of his head urged him to move faster and he complied feeling that the other man was close. Karl rammed into his mouth making him gag and gripped the armrest tightly as Karl came trembling into his mouth with a loud groan.

Karl let go of him with a contented sigh and slid his softening member out of his mouth leaving a steam of blood and semen pouring down Magnus' chin. Magnus let his head drop to his chest and felt an all-encompassing emptiness overtake him as he watched the revolting mixture of fluids land on his leg in heavy drops. He knew full well that nobody was coming for him this time either and he didn't want them to. He didn't want his colleagues or family to see him like this. Didn't want the pity in Ann-Britt's eyes or the mockery in Nyberg's. The sadness in his sister's or the indifference in his mother's eyes. Most of all he didn't want to be there to see Kurt break down at the sight of him. He couldn't – wouldn't let him see him like this. Kurt would blame himself no matter what he'd say and it would kill him. Would kill them both. So let it all end. Let the fat lady sing and let it end.

Magnus didn't notice when Karl sat down on the chair in front of him again until almost gentle hands smoothed over his sweaty locks. The situation suddenly seeming unfittingly humorous to him Magnus let out a snort and hissed through the dripping blood, "Fuck off, angel."

When he spoke it felt as though the wound had spread his mouth to his left ear and that for some reason struck him as highly amusing. Laughing as Karl grabbed his hair and yanked his head up he spat blood and cum in his face with a maniacal grin. It didn't matter. Nothing would ever matter again. He would die in this mouldy basement and relief couldn't come fast enough. But brown eyes found his again and the look in them stilled his mirthless laughter and Karl smiled like a knife.

"I'm not going to kill you, Magnus. You keep trying to entice me, but I love you too much to kill you." Karl wiped his face off with his shirt sleeve and then placed a rushed kiss on Magnus' head. Whispering into his hair he said, "No matter what you do you will always be my angel. But I will not allow you to disrespect me."

With those words he grasped Magnus' right index finger. Magnus followed his every move with increasing worry and desperately sought his gaze, fearful once more. Karl met his eyes briefly before Magnus had to squeeze his shut against the intense pain of his finger breaking. He let out a pained groan but forced his lips shut against the scream struggling to break free from his throat. Breathing heavily as Karl caressed his uninjured cheek with a bloodied finger he hated himself for leaning into the soft touch.

"Hush my angel." Karl whispered, his voice soft and on the verge of tears. "This hurts me more than it does you."

Magnus nodded because he knew Karl in his own deluded way meant it. He also knew that if he kept getting him angry he would soon die from blood loss. But just as that snide voice in the back of his mind reminded him that such action would help him reach his goal he knew he couldn't do it. He couldn't die here. What would he say to Kurt?


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: Sorry about the wait guys, I'll try to better myself. Also sorry for all the peculiar metaphors and descriptions used below. Thank you for all your lovely reviews. Love you all. **

What You Did

"Is anyone looking into this?" Kurt asked in a rush the moment he came through the door. "We have to check if any of the other victim's families recognizes the man in the picture. I spoke to Magnus' sister and she said it might be their old neighbour Karl."

"Lisa is talking to the second victim, Rasmus Hallgren's, mother. She'll call the moment she knows anything." Ann-Britt answered looking almost as bad as Kurt felt with her eyes puffy and hair a mess. He suspected she hadn't taken a break or really eaten anything since they found out about Magnus seven hours ago. She looked up at him from her computer and gave him a weak smile that he found himself incapable of returning. Her eyes were slowly drifting back to the screen when the phone rang and quickly as the closing mouth of a Venus flytrap her hand shot out and snatched it from the table.

"Ann-Britt," she answered and frowning she listened intently to the voice on the other end. "Are you sure?" She wrote something down on a piece of paper and finished the call unceremoniously. Handing the note to Kurt she said, "We've got a name. He's a friend of the family."

Kurt's eyes landed on the note she'd handed him, mouthing the name written upon it. "Karl Wäst*…"

Ann-Britt typed his name into the police database and said after a short while, "I've found him." Kurt dropped the note and rushed around the table and stared at the screen over her shoulder. A dark haired man with strangely distant eyes looked back at him.

Ann-Britt frowned as she read off the screen. "Karl Niklas Wäst, age 43, unemployed, never married. He has a criminal record, spent 12 years in Österåker prison for assault with a lethal weapon. He was released only seven months ago. That's why there's been a twelve year gap since the last victim…since Magnus was taken."

Kurt grabbed her shoulder in a failed attempt to steady himself. _This could be the man we're looking for, the man who has Magnus_. "Do you have an address?"

"Yes," she wrote it down on another piece of paper and the moment it was in Kurt's hand he rounded the table quicker than anyone would have thought him capable. He rushed into his office and grabbed the gun from the desk drawer and pushed in a fresh magazine, his hands shaking, and he left the building. He vaguely heard Ann-Britt yell at him to wait but his blood was pounding too hard in his ears for him to be sure. His breath seemed misplaced somewhere back in the office and he was panting by the time he reached his car. Reaching for the door handle he jumped as another hand grabbed it before him. Half-turning he was faced by an equally breathless Ann-Britt still pulling on her coat.

"I'm driving if you don't mind." She said while opening the door and Kurt passed her the keys without comment.

A building of rooks passed overhead, their shadows casting dark shapeless patterns like ink blots on paper as he walked around the car. Their shrieks and the fading light of day seemed ominous to him as he got in on the passenger side. Ann-Britt looked at him past her shoulder as she pulled out of the lot, her eyes dark and troubled. He knew what she was thinking. Magnus had been missing for nearly 27 hours, the chance of finding him alive was slim at best.

They drove down Kristianstadsvägen in silence. To Kurt it felt like road was stretching out into infinity. Passing by the little houses and neat, albeit bare, hedges that had never in his life felt this panic inducing and he feared his heart might break from beating too fast. A fine mist of rain was peppering the windscreen and red leaves danced across the road like scared animals. The cold wind swept the leaves away as they rounded the corner to Thorsvägen and when they reached Friskskyttegatan the rain increased until it became worthy of a tempest. Ann-Britt turned another corner and they approached an apartment complex on Jägaregatan. _The hunter's street, how appropriate, _Kurt thought. The gun was still clenched in his sweaty hand. Determination gripped him and glancing up at the red balconies coming nearer through the window, steeling himself and taking a deep breath, he opened the door the moment the car stopped.

Striding across the lawn with the rain whipping his face he saw Ann-Britt following him out of the corner of his eye. Her hand closed around his arm and he heard her hiss, "You're not going to go in there shooting!"

She let go of him and he turned with a snarl, "If he's got Magnus…"

"Then we'll arrest him," said Ann-Britt as she opened the door and held it open for him. "And he'll go back to Österåker for life this time."

"Yeah, right," Kurt huffed as he pushed past her and hurried up the stairs. Taking the steps in two he was soon winded and swore he'd start exercising if Magnus made it through this. If not…nothing would really matter. When he reached the third floor his eyes immediately fell on the plaque on the second door. Karl Wäst. Trying to keep his hands from shaking he nodded to Ann-Britt and she stepped around him. After briefly catching his eye she knocked on the door and yelled, "Karl Wäst this is the police. We need to talk to you. Open up."

No reply. No footsteps. After waiting for about fifteen seconds she tried again and when there was yet again no reply Kurt banged on the door loudly with his unoccupied hand. "Open up or we're coming in!"

Ann-Britt grabbed his arm again and quietly said, "Kurt we can't do that. We've only got a name, and only circumstantial evidence that his guy is guilty."

"Are you willing to risk Magnus' life on that?" Kurt snapped and cocked his gun. "'Cause I'm not."

Taking a step back he fire twice at the lock. The shots rang like the bells of Notre-Dame rung by seven demons through the empty stairwell. Kurt pushed the door open and yelled through the ringing in his ears Magnus' name as he stalked into the apartment. There was no reply. Ann-Britt by his side drew her gun and they edged along the wall through the hallway. Glancing into the kitchen on their left she shook her head and continued onto the living room.

"It's clear," Kurt heard her call as he stepped into the equally empty bedroom with a sinking feeling in his gut. Lowering his gun in defeat he felt his knees buckle as the adrenalin left his body, leaving him with a feeling of upmost incompetence. Throwing the gun away on the bed he slumped to the floor and rested his aching head on his knees.

"There's no sign of him here. Everything's clean, too clean." He heard Ann-Britt say from the hallway and knew she was right.

There was nothing here. Magnus wasn't here. Had probably never been. He had failed him. Magnus was going to die painfully or was already dead. _He probably died last night because I was too stupid to get my ass over to his apartment and check if he was okay. He is dead. _Kurt felt his tears soak through his trousers and wiped his eyes on his left knee. Outside the window a deceit of lapwings took flight. _Deceit…Such a strange word for a flock. A deceit…They shouldn't even be here. They should be down south where it's warm and the ground isn't covered in leaves._ Looking down from the window he caught sight of something hidden underneath the bed.

Kurt crawled over on his hands and knees and reached in under the bed, cricking his back but not giving a toss. Dragging his body up on the bed he placed an old cardboard box that seemed displaced in the immaculate room on his lap. Taking a steadying breath he opened the lip and let out a gasp of horror. Trying, and failing, to sound composed he called out, "Ann-Britt, I think I found something."

She appeared in the doorway looking concerned and a little scared. "What?"

"I found Karl's picture collection." Kurt answered, trying to look anywhere but at the contents of the box. Ann-Britt blanched as she sat down next to him and whispered, "Oh God," as she looked into the box. Reaching into the collection of pictures she took out a handful of polaroid photos.

"This is Albert Hedman, the second victim counting Magnus, which I guess we must now." Her voice trembled as she held up a picture of a boy with a bleeding gash on his head. He was looking through the bars of some small confinement with scared eyes. "He was only twelve. The youngest to be taken."

Kurt looked into the box and was faced with a sea of misery as blood soaked and terrified children looked back at him with pleading eyes. He glanced at Ann-Britt and saw her wiping a tear from her eye. She held up another picture and cleared her throat.

"Anders Svensson." Her hands shook and she grasped the edges of the picture tighter. "Fourteen years old. Wanted to be a cowboy his mother told me. Instead he was tortured, starved and raped and killed by this sick pervert who should have died in jail!"

She threw the picture back into the box and dropped her head into her hands. Her shoulders shook but Kurt had no words of comfort, only a feeling like he was dying. Like his world was turning into dust and all the already dim colours fading into the beige of dead flowers. His eyes lingered on the content of the box but saw nothing being so obscured by unshed tears. Wiping his eyes in a sudden and short-lived burst of anger he continued to stare into its murky content to try to find something of worth. Some clue. His eyes fell on the back of a yellowed photo; the only part visible was its corner sticking out of the gruesome mass. Reaching in his hand he fished it out and read the word 'Angel' on the back. Tentatively and with his heart in his throat he turned it over. Feeling as if breath and light had left him never to return he could do nothing but let the renewed tears fall from his eyes. He'd know that face anywhere.

"Oh, Magnus…" He sighed in despair and Ann-Britt stirred next to him. "What did he do to you?"

Ann-Britt let out a small whimper as her red eyes landed on the picture. The fourteen year old Magnus in the picture was small and oh so thin. Lying naked on his side on a mattress, his back covered in the criss-cross pattern of whip marks and the inside of his legs streaked with blood. The fingers on his left hand was holding on to the fabric of the mattress tight enough to tear it. Tear tracks stood in stark relief against his bloodied face. Ann-Britt rose from her seat and rushed out of the room. Kurt was about to gather strength he didn't have to call out to her when he heard the sound of vomiting coming from the bathroom. Instead of worried he just felt numb.

Reaching into the box once more he felt something different at the bottom of it. It turned out to be a diary as he pulled it out, scattering pictures haphazardly on the floor. He heard a phone ring somewhere far away but took no notice of it as he flipped through the old and damaged pages. He quickly concluded from the untidy scrawl that it was written by a child. The date was however neatly written by an adult on the back of the cover and read 1971.

An impatient voice drifted through the silence of the apartment and he saw Ann-Britt standing in the doorway looking pasty and on edge. "He's got a summer house."

"What?" Kurt blinked several times trying to clear the fog in his head.

"Karl Wäst has got a summer house!"

***pronounced **_**vest**_


	10. Chapter 10

What You Did

He felt numb. The sharp and throbbing pain that had been his companion was now a mere whisper, a reminder of where he was and who he was with. The brightness of the light bulb swinging above him had turned muted and golden like a sunset reflected on murky water. Blood fell to the dirty floor in heavy drops and were the only sound to be heard apart from his shallow breathing. The world was slowly pouring away along with his blood…becoming faded and unreal. Things lost meaning. Names became words, memories became stories belonging to another and hope just another idea dreamt up some warm summer night when everything had been safe and all this madness belonged to somebody else. Fairytales all of it, everything became nothing but stories as cruel hands cut his bonds and lifted him like a ragdoll from his chair and laid him down. Those same hands pushed his face into a dirty mattress and tore off his shirt. Cold fingers danced across the scars on his back and over his spine. Whispered words that once mattered replaced by…nothing, just the cold hard reality and the dream to be elsewhere.

xzxxzxxzx

By the time Kurt and Ann-Britt got back in the car police officers had already filled up the parking lot and were ready to ransack the apartment. However after catching wind of the summerhouse most of them got back into their cars and followed the detectives to their destination. Ann-Britt was driving again but judging by the speed she was going it could might as well have been Kurt behind the wheel. It was a four mile drive to the cottage located by the lake Krageholm. After only a couple of minutes Kurt was drumming his fingers against his knees and looking out the windows as if expecting to see Magnus walking across one of the many moors outside.

"He'll be okay, Kurt," said Ann-Britt while glancing at him and then back to the rain soaked road. "We'll find him, he'll be okay."

"I don't know what I'll do if we get there and he'd dead. I can't even imagine…" Kurt rubbed his hand across his tired face. "I wouldn't be able to live with myself if I let him down. If that bastard's done anything to him then I'll…"

"He's strong Kurt. He'll pull through." Ann-Britt attempted a kind smile but the sadness of her eyes betrayed her worry.

"He must…he has to be." Kurt sighed and let his eyes follow a wedge of geese flying over a distant forest. "You know I'm not strong. I couldn't live if he died because of my incompetence. I've never been strong and that would be too much."

"Don't talk like that!" Her voice betrayed a hint of anger as she looked away from the road and met his sorrowful eyes. "You guys are my family, even Nyberg, so I don't want you talking like that."

xzxxzxxzx

Hot breath ghosted over his back and a part of him wondered when he'd lost his clothes. But it hardly mattered. "Angel"…angel was whispered to him as cold fingers with sharp nails pushed into him. The burn was as familiar as was the weight pressing down on his back. The movement of the fingers were soon ceased and they were pulled out with an impatient sound coming from above him. The burning sensation they'd left in their wake increased and became full and all-consuming as something too large and hard took their place. Feeling like the pain would tear him apart Magnus wanted to grab onto the sheet but his broken fingers would not permit it. A silent scream left his mouth and he felt the cut on his cheek open anew.

The room grew foggy and blinking away pain induced tears his eyes landed on the wall in front of him. There was something on it, a scratch or mark of some kind. Maybe one of the boys before him had left it. Maybe Rasmus or Anders, maybe even himself all those years ago. He couldn't remember. As he felt Karl rutting into him, trying desperately to get in deeper and further, time lost meaning. Maybe he'd never left. Could it all have been a dream, a delusion brought on by fever or the drugs? Was he still that little boy who had walked home from school alone even though he knew he should have waited for his sister? Names…names that had meant so much. Karl, Victoria…Kurt. Who were they? What had made them so important? They weren't there now. Had never been there. What are names but words?

xzxxzxxzx

A cottage could be seen through the trees and Ann-Britt slowed down the car. It was hard to discern through the thick pine trees and the overgrown road had been difficult to follow. The summerhouse was in a similar state of disrepair, its once yellow colour peeled away and most of the windows broken.

"Are you sure we've got the right place?" Kurt asked while they stepped out of the car and they closed the doors soundlessly. Behind them officers were leaving their vehicles equally quietly, guns drawn and faces resolute.

"Yes, but it's strange." Ann-Britt answered with a frown. "This guy's apartment was spotless while this place looks like no-one's been here for years."

They hushed conversation ceased as they sneaked closer to the cottage, guns drawn. The wet leaves were slippery underfoot and the strands of discoloured ivy hanging from the veranda brushed passed their faces as they pushed open the dilapidated door. The hinges creaked and the tittle-tattle of fleeing mice could be heard from inside. As Kurt entered he feared the floorboards might give way under his weight and reigned in the urge to run from room to room shouting Magnus' name. Around him police officers spread out searching every room as he slowly walked through the kitchen towards a door he suspected led to the basement. With his heart beating unnaturally loud in his ears and a feeling like his world was about to unravel he walked up to the green painted door. Ann-Britt positioned herself on his right, ready to fire in case anything jumped out at them. Kurt swallowed audibly and tried to steady his shaking hands before grabbing the doorknob. The door opened soundlessly and a darkened staircase spread out before them, the sound of running feet and the smell of blood all too apparent.

xzxxzxxzx

The pressure on his back lifted and the painful thing inside him was pulled out. Something was happening, he was sure of that. Something he should have heard; a sound that had spooked the other. There was a hand in his hair, soft and warm, and a whisper, a promise spoken in haste, "I'll return for you," it said and the hand was gone along with the body pressing down on him. It was cold with him gone and it felt strange to know he'd been left alone. The man who had used to be so important had been replaced by harsh lights and harsher voices calling something. Yells and bangs, and hands grabbed him. Someone held him close to their chest. He could feel their rapid heartbeat through the jacket. A kiss was pressed upon his head and something wet landed on his forehead. Blood? No tears. Who would…? Kurt, not Karl. A name, not a word.

"Kurt…" he tried to say but his voice didn't carry. Another kiss was placed on his temple and he closed his eyes. He heard someone whisper through the soft darkness swallowing him, "I'm so sorry, Magnus. I'm so sorry."


	11. Chapter 11

What You Did

**A/N: Sorry about being away for so long. I'll try to better myself. Many kisses flying your way. **

The door opened soundlessly and a darkened staircase spread out before them, the sound of running feet and the smell of blood all too apparent. Kurt rushed down the steps into the darkness, uncaring where his feet landed. A dark shape vanished into an even darker corner. Ann-Britt pushed past him and set off after the shadowy figure. Kurt stepped further into the darkness, trying to find something to fix his eyes on. The air was cold and the metallic tang of blood combined with mildew hung like a clammy curtain above his head.

"Magnus," he breathed into the dark but received no reply. He took another step forward and bumped into something solid at the same time as something hanging from the ceiling swished past his head. Reaching up a shaky hand he felt a bare light bulb next to a string which he pulled. Dim light filtered through the dusty space.

When Kurt saw him lying there on that mattress it felt like the world had stopped. On legs that felt like they didn't belong to him he walked up to the terrifyingly still form lying on the mattress. Dropping to his knees he gathered him into his arms. He was too cold, too bloody. His hair felt moist under his chin and Kurt desperately grabbed for his neck in the hope to find a pulse. Nothing. No movement, just far too cold skin. The last of his strength left him and he slumped over the naked body in his arms, hugging him close. _No, no, no, no, no! This is not allowed to happen._

"But I saved you…" Kurt whispered as tears streamed down his paralysed face. He gently caressed his trembling fingers over Magnus' cheek, his other hand gripping his shoulder hard enough to leave bruises. Kurt stared blindly up at the dark ceiling and tried to breath past the screaming pain in his chest. The faint, close to undetectable tapping against his fingers, made his heart skip a beat. Letting go of his neck Kurt placed his finger under Magnus' nose. His relief was otherworldly when he felt the faintest trace of breath on his finger. He heard a female voice yelling something indecipherable from across the room.

"Ann-Britt call an ambulance!" Kurt yelled, having somehow found his voice despite the soreness of his throat. "Ann-Britt ambulance!"

She was at his side in seconds, tearing the resisting cell phone from her jacket pocket, all the while muttering, "Oh God, oh God, oh God, oh my God Magnus, oh my God…!"

Kurt clung closer to Magnus' unconscious form while she yelled into the phone, her voice breaking terribly. Help would be here in mere minutes since the ambulance was already parked up on the road.

"I let him get away, Kurt!" Ann-Britt sniffled once she'd hung up the phone. "I let the bastard get away! There was another door in the back that we missed. I was so close and I let him get away!"

"No, no you didn't," Kurt replied, quite unaware as to what was actually being said, and pressed a kiss onto Magnus' head. Magnus stirred minutely in his arms. It was such a tiny movement at first he was sure he was imagining it. But there it was again, and a whisper. A breath of a word, so silent and painful to Kurt's ears despite not hearing what was said.

"I'm so sorry, Magnus," he whispered remorsefully into his hair. "I'm so sorry."

Magnus stirred again, his head dropping back to rest on Kurt's shoulder. Crystalline beads of tears were caught in his eyelashes and his hair clung to his forehead which was smeared with a mixture of blood and sweat. A broken looking ghostly pale hand grasped the fabric of Kurt's jacket and Magnus pulled himself closer. The shuddering breath ghosting across his skin felt like life itself. In the darkness, in the cold, Kurt and Magnus clung to each other as if the one being each the other's lifeline. Kurt felt Magnus' lips move against the skin on his throat like he was once again trying to speak. Blue-green eyes blinked open, unseeing as if still caught in a dream. A tear trickled down Magnus' cheek and disappeared into the tangle of bloodied curls. He blinked once and then squeezed his eyes tightly shut against whatever he was seeing in the half-light. Another whisper passed over his cracked lips, still pressed against Kurt as if fearful he would disappear into the dreamscape of his troubled mind, or even more troubled reality.

"I'm so tired." A whisper; a collection of sounds brought together to form a meaning. Three words connected into a sentence, and the underlying meaning of these words made Kurt more scared than he'd ever been in his life. He felt Magnus' hand lose its grip on his jacket and fall to the floor.

"Magnus!" Kurt screamed and shook him roughly, hoping to stir him back to consciousness. As he did Magnus' head tipped to the side making Kurt draw a sharp breath at the sight of his other cheek. _What's he done to you? What's he done to you?_

Kurt felt like he was drowning and hugged him close and supported his head against his shoulder like he would do an infant. But Magnus was no child, hadn't been one since that day twelve years ago, Kurt knew that much. When his eyes had found him moments before he could see no trace of the child he'd once been. Those eyes had been too old. Too old to belong to someone so young, so innocent and now so frail. The banging of heavy boots and the curses of rushed men reached his ears as the paramedics ran down the stairs. How long had it been since Ann-Britt called? Felt like hours. But they were there now, pulling Magnus from his weak arms and taking him away. Strong but trembling hands grabbed Kurt's shoulders to stop him from dragging Magnus back into his safe embrace. He didn't want them to take him away. Not now, not when he'd finally found him. But the strong hands and the gentle voice kept him in place and he had no choice but to stay where he was as he watched Magnus being carried away on a stretcher. He heard someone cry "no", but only realised later that it was himself. He was pulled to his feet and an arm sneaked itself around his waist to support his weight. Someone was leading him towards the stairs and he managed to wrap his arm around their shoulder. A cooing voice, reminding him of his mother's, sounded in his ear as they slowly ascended to the landing. A voice telling him he was doing well and that they were almost there. The bright light in the kitchen seemed to him distant and unreal. A moment later the creaking floor boards beneath his feet had been replaced by soggy grass and the smell of mildew and blood with pine trees. Time seemed to be moving at a staccato beat because before he knew it he was in a car being driven away from the cottage.

"Ann-Britt, where are we going?" Kurt heard himself ask while looking out the window at the swiftly passing scenery of autumn trees and empty fields half-covered in water from nearby ditches.

"I'm taking you home," answered Ann-Britt. Her voice shook but was somehow still steady. He could hear her wiping her running nose on the side of her hand before she continued, "I'm gonna get you in a shower and then we're gonna eat something. When we're done we are going to the hospital and wait for Magnus to get out of surgery."

"Okay," Kurt replied, his aching head pressed against the cool window. His breath misted the window and he was reminded of the feeling of Magnus' warm breath against his throat. He could easily recall many long nights during which he'd dreamed to feel that and more. But not like this, never like this. This should never have happened. Everything felt wrong and twisted inside him.

"We're here," Ann-Britt sounded defeated and when he finally looked at her he was surprised she was still amongst the living. Her skin was grey, almost green, and her eyes looked red and puffy. The stiffness and slowness of her movements betrayed her exhaustion as she hastily got out of the car.

"Is Linda home?" She asked after opening the door for him. His brain was too tired to even having registered her moving around the car and when he answered his voice was slurred as if he was drunk, "No, she's staying with a friend. Boyfriend I think."

He stopped halfway out the car and looked at her though finding it hard to keep her in focus. "Why aren't we going to the hospital?"

"Because you look about ready to pass out and neither one of us have eaten anything today." Ann-Britt held out her hand and he accepted it reluctantly. "And also…you need to clean up." She added the last part with a sad and reluctant look on her face.

Kurt didn't need to look down to know he was covered in blood. Magnus' blood. Squeezing his eyes shut against the tempest of unwanted feelings inside of him, only to open his eyes and finding himself on exactly the same spot. Saddened that the few seconds of darkness hadn't transported him back through time to happier days he began a trudging walk towards his front door. What he wouldn't give to go back just thirty hours. Just to go back and put in the extra effort to knock on Magnus' door instead of just calling his phone. Scattered images flashed like lightning across his mind. Images of Magnus' pale, bloodied body, of his face cut open and the smell of mildew that seemed to have rooted itself in Kurt's nose. His knees grew weak and felt Ann-Britt's arms around him again as he stumbled through the door. He had no memory of unlocking it but then felt Ann-Britt drop the keys back into his pocket. Consciousness was hard to hold on to and he feared the floor had turned into a sea. One part of him just wanted to let go and fall into a deep eternal sleep, but the other part was yelling at him to be a fucking man and protect the one he loved. _Love_, Kurt mused, _yes I do. I love him._

Kurt pressed his free hand against the wall when they reached the bathroom. "I can manage on my own from here on…thank you."

Ann-Britt nodded and let go of him. He swayed somewhat ominously but managed to remain standing with the help of the wall. When he made to enter she held up her hand stopping him.

"Wait here a moment," she turned around and headed to the kitchen, leaving Kurt feeling very confused in a detached sort of way. She returned within a minute though, carrying a bundle of plastic bags. "You're gonna need to put your old clothes in these. They're evidence."

Kurt stared at the bags she's thrust into his hands and then nodded. "Sure…"

"I'll throw some clothes in while you're in the shower," she continued and he nodded again. "I'll order us some pizza or something."

She turned around and walked back into the kitchen before he had a chance to speak. What would he have said anyway? Squeezing the plastic bags with his sweaty hands he backed into the bathroom to the sound of crying coming from the kitchen.


End file.
